Goodnight and Go
by Amends to the Living
Summary: What if someone else took Caroline home after Damon verbally tore her down and she got totally wasted? Currently a One-shot. Mostly Caroline drabble with an AU twist.


He was growing agitated with her. Caroline could tell right away, almost as if she had a sixth sense when it came to the dashing vampire. Yet the words leaving her lips seemed foreign and forced, not at all like her own. Then she realized that she was looking him in the eyes and suddenly it all made sense.

She couldn't look into those deep pools of blue without being robbed of her will to speak for herself. It wasn't a right when it came to Damon Salvatore, it was a privilege; one that Caroline had rarely been offered without strings attached or some kind of consequence. Looking into those eyes meant seeing the _man_, not the vampire.

She didn't know much about Damon's past, or why he seemed so fixated on her friend, Elena. But she knew that he must have his reasons. Just like he must have his reasons for wanting to tear her down so ruthlessly, punching a hole straight through her chest with words as sharp as daggers, effortlessly cutting her down to size like no other.

See, he was the only one who could make Caroline Forbes feel so small and insignificant… she _hated_ that.

She felt the overwhelming urge to tear her gaze away, if only to be able to glance down at his dress shoes, secretly wondering if she was bleeding all over the floor. He didn't even make an effort to make it less painful for her. No novacaine was offered through his piercing gaze.

Just pain, hurt, and heartache…

His words didn't fully register with her at first, not until he pulled away. It was strange that his presence and his touch were so cold, yet without it she felt like she was freezing to death.

* * *

Holding down her drinks had never been her forte. Her head was spinning and she could barely separate one thought from colliding like a freight train into another, but she didn't feel anything. Matt had turned out to be a better conversationalist than she remembered… even if she wasn't exactly sure what he was saying.

The bottles were starting to pile up on their table and Caroline was just glad that her mother wasn't there. The last thing she needed was someone else breathing down her throat or telling her how stupid she was.

Clenching her fists loosely at her sides, her knuckles were quick to pale and turn white as her thoughts drifted back for a moment to the eldest Salvatore. _He_ was the stupid one, Damon and his stupid necklace. It wasn't like she even liked it all that much anyway, since she had been so quick to get rid of it by giving it away.

_Of course, that was also an act in retaliation to his cold behavior towards her, so really, all of this was his fault!_ Caroline grinned triumphantly at this surprisingly clear reasoning in her euphoric, booze-induced state.

_**"Are you alright?"**_

Turning her head to look for the source of the worried voice, a bright smile quickly, but clumsily spread across the blonde's parted lips. **"I'm better than I have been in a long time,"** Caroline nodded reassuringly after a small pause, before leaning to rest her head against Matt's shoulder.

It was nice not to be pushed away or held up on a pedestal all of the time, usually with no way to get back down. But a part of her still wished for those brief moments when Damon would look at her and light her heart on fire from the inside out. She knew that with an outward nod of certainty.

And within moments, her eyes were beginning to slide closed, shielding themselves from the world's eclectic assortment of lights and colors as it all faded to black.

* * *

Caroline wasn't sure how much time had passed, nor did she open her eyes right away to try to find out, but she suddenly felt her world in motion. She wasn't moving, per say… someone was moving _her_. The blonde's strappy heels clicked against one another gently as her legs dangled in the air, before her hearing faintly picked up on a conversation.

It was only between two people. One of them had a smooth, velvety voice that seemed to roll naturally right off of their lips, while the other was more urgent and cautious. Both of them were familiar, but Caroline was too out of it to put faces to them.

Instead, she leaned closer into the crook of her captor's neck, inhaling an all-too-familiar musky scent. Perking her head up gently with a sleepy smile on her beautifully curved lips, the drunken teenager giggled groggily. **"Damon,"** she whispered against the collar of his leather coat, her voice muffled by the thickness of the fabric that draped over his broad shoulders.

She didn't hear a response, but unless it was also tied into a figment of her imagination, Caroline could almost swear—on her favorite pair of Jimmy Choos—that she felt fingertips treading through her long blonde tresses.

Anyone else might have been frightened by the idea of this situation, but she felt safe. It was like a part of her knew that someone was looking after her: a guardian angel behind the cunning smirk of a devil. Her broken heart shifted its pieces gently, not quite falling into place yet, but at least they weren't pressing sharply against her side anymore...

Maybe not all was lost.

* * *

When she finally started to come around, Caroline's bright eyes fluttered open slowly, her brows furrowing as she stared straight up at her ceiling. She recognized the patterns. Stretching her arms over her head, a yawn left her lips, before her heart started to gain in speed as her common sense kicked in.

She was in her bedroom, lying on her bed, and judging by the pitter patter of an impending headache tapping on her temples… _oh god_.

Sitting up a little too quickly, she brought her recently manicured hand up to her head with a groggy groan, before glancing down at herself. Clothes? _Check._ Now, with that out of the way, her teeth came down to tug gently on her lower lip as she turned to her side.

Reaching out her hand slowly to the empty space beside her, she rested it there for a moment. Cold. A wave of relief washed over her features, but it was short-lived as her baby blues fell on her open window. Her eyes fell on a dark figure sitting on the windowsill and they widened in fright, before she realized that it was just a black crow.

It peered at her for a lingering moment, crooning at her before ruffling its wings and flying away briskly, almost reluctantly. How long had it been sitting there?

Leaning back into her pillow once more, her blonde hair splayed behind her as her eyes fell closed again. She entwined her fingers together and rested them on her chest, feeling her heartbeat come down to a steadier pace. She didn't notice another pair of icy blues staring at her just from beyond the hallway through a small slit in the door.

Her guardian angel behind the cunning smirk of a devil.


End file.
